Running, Part 1

“I'm pretty sure an hour of this is going to kill me,” Rile said. His face glowed bright red with blood and the sentence only came out between gasps.

“I don't expect you'll actually die,” Helai said. “You might wish you had, but we'll be here to pick up your sad, collapsed body and get you back to working order soon enough.”

“No,” Rile responded, his arms and legs pumping steadily. “I'm quite certain I can feel my heart failing even now.”

Helai glanced at the overhead monitor. “Hate to disagree with you, sir, but that handy bit of electronics you're strapped to says it's pumping away quite merrily.”

“Screw the electronics,” Rile wheezed. “I think I know my own body. You keep me on like this and it's straight to the morgue with me.” Sweat flooded down his forehead and back.

“That would be a disappointment,” Helai said. “What with all the trouble we've gone through so far. Now don't forget your water over there.” She waved to the bright red bottle hanging at Rile's side. “You seem to be losing quite a bit.”

“I wouldn't... wouldn't be if you... didn't keep it so. Damn hot in here,” Rile replied.

“It's a perfectly acceptable 23 Centigrade, Rile,” Mr. Washburn said as he walked in. “Perfectly decent environment for a work out.”

Rile snarled but didn't retort, preferring to save his breath to maintain the torturous pace they had for him.

“How long has he been going?” Washburn asked.

“This will make five minutes, sir,” Helai replied.

“Oh, dear,” Washburn said, sipping his tea. “He will be in for a long week.”